


Bottled Over

by wackyjacqs



Series: Bizarre Holidays [55]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode: s06e22 Full Circle, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 15:05:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17900408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wackyjacqs/pseuds/wackyjacqs
Summary: He decides not to acknowledge the uncomfortable silence that falls, but they both know why she’s on his doorstep. It’s the same reason he’s currently making his way through a six-pack of Guinness.





	Bottled Over

**Author's Note:**

> Written for ‘Open That Bottle Night’ (this year held on 23 February). Supposedly, this holiday is “dedicated to making sure that those bottles of fine wine put away for a special occasion, are used and enjoyed.” It’s also said that one of its aims is to motivate people to reconnect with each other over a bottle and create good memories with friends and family. 
> 
> Wine. Beer. It’s still booze. 
> 
> Episode addition for season 6 'Full Circle'.

“Carter?”

“Hi, sir.”

He regards his second-in-command carefully as she throws him an awkward smile. Casually leaning an arm against his front door, he takes a swig of beer.

“Am I interrupting anything?” she asks when he doesn’t immediately welcome her into his home. He studies her for a few more seconds then shrugs.

“Unless you count drinking… no.”

He decides not to acknowledge the uncomfortable silence that falls, but they both know why she’s on his doorstep. It’s the same reason he’s currently making his way through a six-pack of Guinness, because he still can’t fathom that Skaara, and the other kids on Abydos – hell, the entire Abydonian population – are dead.

He _really_ hates the Goa’uld, but he also knows that Sam is trying to come to terms with the loss as well and the last thing she probably needs right now is for him to be a complete ass about the situation. Even if he does want to spend the night alone, drinking himself into a stupor. With a heavy sigh, he pushes away from the door and steps aside, allowing her into his house.

“You want a drink?”

“Whatever you’re having is fine.”

He waves her towards the living room as he heads into the kitchen, and when he appears by her side moments later, she jumps as his fingers brush against her arm. Even through her leather jacket, Jack swears the touch makes his skin feel like it’s on fire and he quickly stamps down on that train of thought.

“Thank you,” Sam murmurs as she takes the proffered beer. “Did I wake you?”

He frowns at her question and she gestures to the small lamp in the corner of the room that’s been switched on and the comforter thrown haphazardly across the recliner.

“No.”

“Oh.”

He doesn’t divulge any further information, however, instead taking another drink. But then the room starts to feel too small, too claustrophobic, and he needs to leave. Without a word, he reaches across and plucks Sam’s beer from her hand and turns on his heel.

“C’mon,” he says over his shoulder.

“Are you sure I’m not interrupting, sir?” she asks warily as she follows him through the house and towards the roof.

“I’m sure,” he answers. “I’d just gone inside for more beer when you arrived, so…” he trails off and shrugs, not quite sure if he wants Carter to know how many beers he’s already drained. Although, he figures she might have a pretty good idea. She doesn’t say anything about it, however, which he appreciates and he gestures for her to sit down before he gives her back her drink. Sam decides to forgo a seat and instead makes herself comfortable on the well-worn throw blanket, her back resting against the frame of the chair. After a moment’s hesitation, Jack settles beside her.

Neither speak for what feels like an eternity for Jack, so he’s surprised when it’s him who breaks the silence.

“Y’alright?”

His voice is quiet, but it still sounds too loud for their surroundings. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Sam’s nod. “Yes, sir.”

“Carter,” he sighs. “Can’t you drop the ‘sir’? For once?”

His question comes out harsher than he intends and it shows when he sees the flash of hurt in his teammate’s expression.

“We’re not at work,” he adds, more softly this time. “Right now – well, I’d just like to forget about everything.”

He takes a swig of beer, idly noticing that Sam has yet to take a drink.

“You, ah, haven’t done that in a while.”

He turns his head to look at her and frowns. “Done what?”

“Asked me to stop calling you ‘sir’.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been a while since we’ve just… hung out.”

The regret in his voice is clear, but before he can dwell on _why_ he feels so guilty, he hears Sam’s whisper.

“A year. It’s been almost a year since we last had some kind of team night,” she adds, picking at the corner of the label on her beer bottle.

“It’s been a tough year.”

“Yeah.”

He gladly lets the silence return, even if it is heavy and he thinks of the losses they’ve all suffered over the past twelve months. The endless sacrifices they seem to be making. The close calls they experienced – each one slowly inching their way towards being _too_ close.

His thoughts suddenly return unbidden to Skaara and how it was too late for Jack to save him. He thinks of how the kid has been stolen of the chance to get married, to fall more and more in love with the woman he called his beloved, to have children –

It’s a reminder of Charlie and Jack swallows hard at the lump in his throat as his anger and sadness build.

“I wonder what Skaara’s wedding would have been like.”

“Hmm. The wedding,” he repeats and he can’t help the touch of bitterness lacing his voice, but he thinks he has the right to be churlish, considering the events of the past few days. “The one we were meant to go to together. As friends.”

The words leave him before he can stop them and he feels Sam tense by his side, but he doesn’t apologize for what he’s just said – because he isn’t sure he’s actually sorry.

“Well, we are friends. Aren’t we, sir?”

Her voice is quiet, almost vulnerable and he can’t quite decipher the look that’s in her eye. So, he lets his gaze roam over her form, and then something shifts inside him and realizes that there is just something about her that makes him want to be different – to be _better_. To be the friend that she deserves, even if it is all that he can ever give her.

“Always,” he finally answers, his voice low and husky.

He doesn’t know what it is, or how she does it, but Sam makes his anger and unpredictability dissipate – like somehow, she is the light that, against all hope, vies against the darkness within him.

He hears her sharp intake of breath at his answer, right before her attention falls to his lips, and he swallows hard. He needs to retreat now before he does something stupid.

“We need more beer,” he utters at a loss for anything else and gestures for her to stay where she is as he jumps to his feet. “Don’t go anywhere.”

_So much for not doing anything stupid._

In the end, he isn’t sure what makes him do it.

He thinks it could have been when Sam was on her third beer and he’d lost count of his intake, and she’d suddenly started reminiscing about Daniel and how she’d wished she had been able to spend time with him on Abydos. To ask what he’d been up to the past year and why he hadn’t visited, yet he had chosen to appear to both him and Teal’c. He’d absorbed her anger and then tried to appease her hurt over their revelation that they’d seen their friend but never told her.

Maybe, he wonders, it was when Sam had turned her attention to the night sky but he’d focused on the way the moonlight cast a pale white light on his major’s face, giving her an ethereal glow that he found captivating. And when she’d finally turned to see him watching her, he didn’t think twice about getting to his feet or how he’d stretched out a hand and helped Carter to hers, whispered, ‘C’mere’ and held her in his arms.

Or, he thinks it could have been when Sam turned those sparkling blue eyes on him and whispered a heartfelt apology for Skaara’s death. He never said anything, instead he slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her tight against his side.

But then, he concedes, that maybe the beer was to blame for why he’d kissed Carter.

He wasn’t drunk by any stretch, neither was Sam, but the alcohol had clearly lowered their inhibitions just enough so that when he let his hands cup Sam’s face or his thumb lightly traced her cheek, or even the way he’d whispered her name a second before he pressed his lips to hers, she didn’t pull away. Instead, she’d immediately responded and deepened the kiss.

But the kissing wasn’t exactly the problem.

The real problem was that somewhere along the way, they’d had one of their silent conversations, which said that while they knew what they were doing, and that even though they really shouldn’t be and should stop... they’re also in agreement that they _want_ to do this. Which is why Sam willingly followed him back into his house, down the hallway and into his bedroom.

He glances to his right to find her still asleep and a soft smile graces his lips. If he’s honest, there’s not one part of him that regrets kissing her. He knows it’ll probably make things more difficult in that they’ll have to pretend their night together never happened, but he’s also happy in the knowledge that once their fight with the Goa’uld is over, it’s a promise of more to come.

**Author's Note:**

> OK, so towards the latter end of season 6, Sam and Jack seem to be inching closer to the relationship they had before – less tension, less coldness, etc. However, at the start of season 7, they are so flirty and just the complete opposite. So, something had to happen between the pair after the events of Full Circle, but before Fallen. 
> 
> Basically, the idea behind this fic was just an excuse to let (one of) my headcanons run free for a little while. :D


End file.
